


Yay for Plan A

by tempeck16



Series: You're a Halliwell Stiles [1]
Category: Charmed, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: After finale of charmed, But he's also the werewolf baby, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Isaac is a Little Shit, It's all Jackson's fault, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, No but really, Oblivious Stiles, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Slash, Sarcastic Stiles, Season 2 of Teen Wolf, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Pack, Stiles is having a bad week, Stiles passes out a lot, Teen Wolf and Charmed collide, blatant misuse of the italics format, but not really, look at all my tags, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 09:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4741352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempeck16/pseuds/tempeck16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Stiles wanted to do was live a semi normal existence, where he could fight off supernatural creatures in a pack of werewolves with his best friend, some werewolf classmates, Lydia-whatever the hell she is, and the love of his life... he means Derek Hale.</p><p>Unfortunately for him, semi normal is borderline impossible. Add in an Alpha pack, Werewolf Training Camp 2: The House of Pain, an asshole Darklighter, and some Witchlighters into that mix, and Stiles is about to have a very bad week. Did he also mention that he might be a Witch?</p><p>(or the one where Stiles is a Halliwell, but nobody told him that, he passes out a lot, and he's in <i>serious</i> love with Derek Hale)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the summer between season 2 and season 3 in Teen Wolf, and the timeline had to be a little screwed up for Charmed, to make all of the characters around the same age, but it takes place in the future generations of Charmed meaning Wyatt, Chris, and their cousins are basically the charmed ones now. This will be a multi-story series, and I really hope you enjoy it.

It all started at that stupid warehouse. 

That stupid warehouse, with that stupid kanima, who turned out to be stupid Jackson; so in actuality this was all Jackson's fault. 

Okay, maybe that wasn't true. 

Intellectually Stiles knew that not everything in the wild, wild west was Jackson Whittemore’s fault, but sometimes you had to knock a guy down a peg, or he would just get a bigger head about things and then fall over all the time because _my God_ how many Porsches does one jackass need? 

So to reiterate, it was all Jackson's fault because he was why Stiles and Scott were at the warehouse in the first place, the kanima was the reason that Deaton had given Stiles the mountain ash that had jump started the weirdest and most life changing thing that had ever happened to him; which including his best friend becoming a werewolf, fighting a classmate that sporadically turned into a giant lizard, being held at gun point by a different but equally deranged classmate, and falling head over heels in love with an ex-murder suspect that his Dad had arrested. Twice. 

Dammit Jackson.

re: Again, probably not Jackson's fault. 

So things had been going alright. No kanimas, crazy hunters with the last name *cough* Argent *cough* not that Stiles was pointing fingers, none of his other friends were being turned into werewolves, he had other friends who were werewolves, which included Lydia, but she wasn't really a werewolf, she was more along the lines of a dead body detector, and it was summer so school had been pretty tame.

After the shitshow that was their sophomore year Stiles didn't think that anything could possibly top the Gerard-Kanima-Werewolves-Matt situation that everyone miraculously lived through, but then Derek-

Derek, you know, god's greatest gift, bulging muscles, permanent mean mugging, _'pretty sure I'm in Love with him'_ , Alpha werewolf, Hale. 

That Derek.

-said something about a sign on his door, the door of the burnt out Hale house, that quite frankly was depressing to look at, and Stiles would totally bring that up again, but Derek always got this weird pinched look on his face that made Stiles want to either hug him and let him cry it out, or run because that face usually followed pain on Stiles' part.

The sign, Derek said, was the mark of a pack of werewolves that didn't exactly play by the rules, in fact not only did they not play by the rules, they didn't even know there was a game going on. They just took the board and flipped it when they got, well, bored. 

Derek told his and Scott's packs, which was really just Derek's pack with obstinance from the peanut gallery, that the pack that was coming their way was a special type of dangerous because they were a pack made entirely of Alphas. Stiles metaphorically wet himself and questioned who the hell thought that was a good idea, as if one deranged Alpha, Peter not Derek, wasn't enough. 

Derek, ignoring him like the status quo that was turning out to be, went on to say that these wolves came to Beacon Hills years ago when Derek was a kid, pup, small person with fangs and claws, and his family had a duel with them that ultimately the Hales won. The Alpha pack at that time left with their tails between their legs, and vowed that they would be back, but it probably wasn't super intimidating or effective after getting their asses whooped so soundly. 

Isaac, who was turning out to be not the douche Stiles thought he might have been when they, meaning Scott, started hanging out with him, was the one who asked why they couldn't just have another duel, beat their butts again, and be done with it. Stiles was seriously starting to like the cocky little shit. 

Derek had given him a piercing glare before saying something along the lines of everyone was still fairly new to being were-people, they barely managed to survive one lizard boy and a geriatric crazy hunter, blah blah blah. At least that's what Stiles heard, of course he also heard what Derek wasn't saying, which was 'if we fight them, we will lose'. 

Which was in no way comforting. At all. 

So even though they survive Gerard, Jackson's vicious eczema, Peter, Kate, all the dead bodies, their parents, and sophomore year; they still had a boatload of hell in the form of an Alpha pack with a major chip on their shoulder and the bad taste of being bitch slapped by the Hale pack when the majority were still children. 

Dammit Jackson! - That one didn't even make any sense.

Although Derek had warned them of the impending danger, the entire pack, or both packs depending on who you were listening to, were tense and pretty much jumping at shadows, the Alpha pack had yet to show, which was nerve wrecking and terrible, but quiet.

There's your sign.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles got back from a rousing afternoon of shopping for school supplies which he normally would have detested but thankfully this impromptu shopping trip had gotten him out of Werewolf Training Camp 2: The House of Pain, because apparently if you were gonna run with wolves you had to train with them too. Stiles would have volunteered for an unnecessary root canal if it meant getting him out of Derek's hellish version of _P90x_.

Also, and Stiles felt terrible about this, but he had to get away from Scott. He loved the kid like a brother, like an actual honest to god brother who also happened to be a werewolf, but ever since Allison decided that they needed a 'break' and went to France for the summer with her dad, Scott had been a sullen, clingy limpet that wouldn't give Stiles two minutes to himself. He didn't blame Scott, losing one’s first love was hard, or so Stiles had been told. He would say that losing Lydia to Jackson had been hard, but no matter how many times it was professed, he was pretty sure Lydia hadn't been his first love. She was amazing, he loved her like he loved Allison and Erica, but she wasn't his first love. 

Also getting out of trying to pretend like he's not drooling over Derek freakin' Hale in a tight tank top and even tighter jeans sweating his perfect ass off while barking orders in that deep growly voice, was probably good for his mental well-being. 

So there he was driving into his spot in his driveway absently noticing that the cruiser wasn't in the drive like he expected it not to be, making his way into his house, arms fit to burst with all of his groceries because two trips to the jeep was amateur hour, and thinking about where he was going to hide the bacon he bought until a special occasion, he opened the front door. 

He was startled from his thoughts when his phone rang from his back pocket he rushed to the kitchen to drop off his bags so he could answer it. Slightly panting and overjoyed by the fact that he hadn't tripped or dropped anything, Stiles answered his phone without looking at the caller ID because one of like ten people would be calling him at the height his popularity. 

"Joe's Morgue, you maul 'em, we haul 'em, Joe speaking." Stiles answered running a hand through his recently grown out hair, still not used to the spiky mess on top of his head.

An exasperated, in not the good way, sigh could be heard through the speaker and Stiles knew that sigh like the back of his Adderall bottle. "Derek, what can I do for you? Aren't you busy doing drills with the pups?" 

"Stiles, where are you?" Derek growled through the phone, like he had any other tone of voice. Stiles’ mind wondered to what Derek would sound like if he took a whiff of helium. He snorted out a laugh at his musing and then remembered that Derek had asked him something. 

"I'm at my house. I told Scott to tell you that I wouldn't be there. Is he there? Oh my God, is he with you Derek? I left him at his house like an hour ago, did he make it to-"

"Stiles," Derek interrupted impatiently, "Scott's here, you aren't." 

"Derek right, Stiles not where Derek is." Stiles quipped, "I thought we moved past the monosyllabic sentences dude. If Scott's there then everything is fine, right?"

Stiles couldn't tell by the silence what kind of look Derek had on his face but it was probably the constipated, ‘I can't stand the words that come out of your mouth’, face that correlated with the fact that he was talking to Stiles. 

"This is pack bonding time, not just training, you should be here." Derek murmured into the receiver. 

Stiles had a smart ass remark on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself when he realized what Derek had said. Sure he was pack, Stiles knew that, but knowing that and having someone tell you that were two entirely different things.

Stiles sighed as he straightened from hiding the bacon behind the lettuce in the refrigerator. "Listen Sourwolf, I'm sorry I'm not there, I didn't even consider that it would be pack time. I'll finish up here and head over." 

Stiles closed the fridge and looked over at the rest of his groceries which consisted only of school supplies that he didn't want to deal with, so he decided to not. Turning away from the kitchen Stiles went to grab his keys that were sitting on the coffee table where he'd thrown them when he waddled in with all of his groceries. 

He heard a grunt of acknowledgement from the other side of the phone that signified that Derek and he were on the same page. 

"Don't get too excited, Malibu's most wanted, just because I'm coming for pack playtime doesn't mean-"

A black arrow flew past Stiles' face and embedded itself in the wall next to the front door. Stiles whimpered in fear at the knowledge that one step closer to the door and that arrow would have been stuck somewhere in the vicinity of his neck.


	3. Chapter 3

"Stiles?" Derek asked in what was probably an alarmed voice at hearing the pitiful sound in the middle of what he was sure was another sarcastic remark from Stiles.

Stiles meanwhile let out a short pant of fear and turned slowly toward the direction to which the arrow came from fervently hoping that it was only Allison and she was playing the world’s most terrifying practical joke on him. 

As he turned to a stop he was not confronted with his best friend's sort of ex-girlfriend, but instead a very large, not Derek large, but still immense man dressed in all black, like emo for life black, shirt, shoes, and terrifyingly large crossbow pointed directly at Stiles' heart. 

"Stiles?!" Derek shouted from the tiny device in Stiles' hand that was now by his side instead of by his ear. Stiles didn't think he could bring his hand back up to answer Derek if someone paid him to.

"Who the hell-" Stiles started, but didn’t have the chance to finish before the behemoth was firing another black arrow of death directly at his upper body. A year and a half of lacrosse and three months as the pack's whipping human was all that saved him from becoming a Stiles kabob. He hit the floor at an angle but experience and instinct had him rolling with the impact and stumbling to a run, out the back, through the kitchen.

"Where are you going little witch?" The gigantor cackled evilly as he slowly stocked toward Stiles. 

'Witch?' Stiles mouthed to himself, a little hysterical, just as he reached the backdoor. Another arrow, that Stiles could now see had intent to kill, flew past his left side and stuck forcefully in the kitchen door. Stiles couldn't help but think that A) His dad was going to murder him if this guy didn't succeed, there were now several arrows imbedded in too many surfaces in their house, and B) This asshole was a horrible shot. 

Stiles barreled out of the kitchen door and into the backyard at full tilt hoping to gain enough ground to lose his pursuer in the preserve.

"Run, run little witch! I'll still catch you!" The grim dressed man taunted as Stiles hit the wooded area behind his house running like he was on fire. 

"Stiles! Answer me dammit!" Came from somewhere to his left and it had Stiles stumbling momentarily before digging deep and picking up his pace. 

"Stiles, I swear to god! We're coming to get you, and if you just fell over something and are unconscious right now, I'm going to kill you." Derek shouted through the phone, and just as Stiles heard that a piercing pain exploded low on his right side that threw him to the ground and rolled him over a few times before coming to a painfully fast stop. 

The impact was so devastating that he didn't have time to scream when it happened, but silence was its own reward as the blow from whatever hit him pushed him into some bushes and concealed his entire body. Breathing harshly, Stiles tried to quiet himself as he heard elephant like boots as they stalked past his unintentional hiding place. Hollow breathing got him through five minutes of absolute silence, but after that amount of time, Stiles realized that he did not feel well at all; instantly remembering, and berating himself for forgetting, the impact that had gotten him behind the bushes in the first place. 

Cautiously, mindful of the fact that a deranged mad man dressed in black carrying a crossbow was quite literally out to get him, Stiles pulled himself to a sitting position and took a few deep breaths before looking down at his newly acquired wound. What greeted him was a fairly deep gouge just above his hip on his lower right side. It was bleeding sluggishly, but thankfully it was little more than a flesh wound. Then why, Stiles wondered, did it feel like he had been blindsided by a semi and left for dead. 

Bunching up the raggedy part of his flannel over shirt, Stiles put pressure on the wound but was unsuccessful in stopping a groan of pain from filtering out of clenched lips. He froze, mentally facepalming as he waited for the inevitable sound of an Ent's footsteps coming from somewhere around him, coming to finish the job that it started, coming to kill him; but nothing happened. 

A rushed breath of relief forced its way out of his lungs, but then Stiles realized that he had a whole new problem on his hands. His vision was starting to blur at an alarming rate, and lifting his head was akin to climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.

"Oh god," Stiles panted, wondering why the hell this scratch, really a nic if his dad ever asked him about it, was causing him to feel so terrible. The logical part of his brain told him that it probably had something to do with the adrenaline rush of almost getting killed, again; which seemed to calm his impending panic attack, but knowing that fact didn't really help him in his overall quest to _not die in the forest._

Summoning his manhood from bottom to top, Stiles pulled his legs in, praying to every deity he knew, and used a nearby tree to pull himself to a standing position. Luckily he lived in the pseudo-Mesozoic era that insured the bush that he was hiding behind still concealed most of his body. Looking around cautiously, but now not having the energy to be the true James Bond, Stiles carefully with uncharacteristic grace stepped out from behind the bushes and then stumbled to a halt when he tried to move his legs any further. 

His side was throbbing, his head was killing him, his heart was racing, and he may have stepped in some sort of excrement. 

"Least of my worries." Stiles said to himself, trying to blink the sweat out of his eyes, now noticing that it was kind of drenching him like he had a raging fever.

Something was seriously wrong with him.

He got a few steps away from the tree when he came to the realization that he could not, physically, _could not_ make it back to his house. He also momentarily wondered if that was such a bad thing because for one, that crazy guy with the crossbow could be waiting for him and would be all too happy to finish him off, or his dad could come home to see his rotting corpse out on the couch, because he honestly didn't feel like he was going to make it. 

Digging for the gold, Stiles tried his absolute, final minutes of the game, I've _got_ to survive hardest, and stumbled his way over to another tree that was only a few yards away from where he started, but it wasn't enough. He hit the tree and decided that it looked shockingly similar to his bed, and that right then was the perfect time to take a short breather. He slid down the tree trying to regulate his breathing and closed his eyes for a moments rest.


	4. Chapter 4

He woke to howling. 

"Spread out, his scent is all over the place, he's got to be here." Was the second thing he heard. 

He knew that voice. 

He loved that voice.

Stiles pried his eyes open with immense force, and light hit him from too many angles. He groaned at the reverberating pain in his head and neck from the awkward way that he was slumped in his bed. No, wait, his bed didn't have leaves on it. His bed was soft and his pillows were soft, he was not in his bed. Besides it was way too damn bright to be his room. 

An inch of movement had him cursing every deity that he was praying to earlier from the pain that circulated all over his body. That movement brought the wolves running. 

A shadow fell over him and concealed a good deal of the light that was blinding him, but for the life of him he couldn't make out who was standing not three feet in front of him.The sharp intake of breath and the light whine followed by an all too familiar voice made him realize that the person who found him was his best friend. 

"Oh my god! I found him! Guys, I found him!" Footsteps too fast to be human were heard from all around Stiles as blurry figures converged on his position. 

"What's wrong with him? Is that blood?" A female voice, probably Erica said from somewhere off to his left. 

A growl and some retreating steps came from the same direction and then, "Whoever did this is long gone, but his stench is almost overpowering." Boyd's deep voice was soothing, but not super helpful to Stiles' overworked brain. 

A sniffling noise and pressure to his right signified that Isaac was retreating to his normal submissive behavior and was trying to comfort his pack mate. "It's only a gouge. It's bleeding, but why does he smell so sick?" A whimper followed that question along with more pressure that had Stiles himself whimpering. The pressure automatically retreated and was replaced by a hand to his shoulder. His vision cleared a little as he felt pain draining from one of the wolves taking it away.

Stiles could honestly say that he was infinitely surprised to see Derek leaning over him with a look that Stiles had never seen on his face before. Just past him was Scott hovering anxiously watching as the Alpha of the group took his best friend's pain away. The other Beta's were pacing and fidgeting in the background. Stiles opened his eyes a little wider and surveyed his surroundings.

"Hey guys, how's it hanging?" Stiles croaked out to the relief of all those that surrounded him. 

"Stiles!" Scott shouted and launched himself down next to Stiles' prone form. Scott was about to make a grab for his shoulder when Derek's hand shot out and stopped him. 

"I don't know what's wrong with him, but Isaac’s right, he shouldn't be this sick." 

Scott pulled his arm from Derek's grip and rounded on his best friend, sporting ridiculously big puppy dog eyes. "Dude, what happened? Your house looks like a pincushion." Stiles knew what Scott was thinking even in his fatigued, hazy state and he shook his head in a way that he knew Scott would understand after twelve plus years of friendship. 

Scott's shoulders slumped minutely, but thankfully he looked slightly less aggravated with the knowledge that his sort of ex-girlfriend wasn't responsible for his best friend looking like death. 

"I don't know dude, one minute I was talking to Derek, the next some giant dude dressed in black with a crossbow is just in my place using me for target practice." Stiles was fighting for breath by the time he was done speaking and it was obvious to the wolves that the human wasn't doing well.

"We've got to get him to Deaton. Jackson and Lydia should already be there so he'll know we're coming." Derek said surveying Stiles again. He had a pinched look on his face that was slightly different from the usual pinched look that he always gave Stiles. Fortunately it was just enough of a difference that Stiles wasn't fearing any pain from the perpetually glaring Alpha.

Stiles wanted to tell them about what the strange guy with the weapon had said to him, had called him, but his vision was blurring out again and it was getting harder and harder to breath. All Stiles heard before he lost the struggle to stay conscious was a cacophony of werewolves yelling at him to stay awake. 

Unfortunately he didn't listen.


	5. Chapter 5

This time he woke to yelling. 

Human yelling, that didn't involve growling, well Derek was there, so it in fact did involve growling, but not at him so that was a total win. He fluttered his eyes open to see Scott hovering just to his right as he drained some of the pain from Stiles and brightened significantly when he saw his best friend's eyes had opened once again. 

"-literally the stupidest werewolf I have ever-"

"-better watch your tone witch, or I will-"

"-threaten my brother again, I double dog dare you-"

"-hilarious Blair, you should have your own sitcom-"

Stiles still felt just this side of road kill, but the pain that Scott edged off allowed him to struggle to a sitting position with Scott's help. He looked around and was not surprised to find himself at Deaton's clinic where they apparently had a roving door for supernatural oddities.

"What the hell's going on out there?" Stiles asked wincing at the sound of his own voice. He felt all kinds of wrong and the yelling wasn't helping with his pounding headache. 

"I don't even know dude. We got you here like ten minutes ago, and as soon as we walked in the door Deaton took one look at you and said he'd be right back." Scott said handing Stiles a glass of milk that was honestly one of the reasons that Scott was Stiles' best friend. "A few minutes after that these two guys showed up demanding to see you and then all hell broke loose."

Stiles pulled a painful chuckle out of somewhere and choked out, "Someone demanded to see me? Oh god, that sounds pleasant."

The noise from the other room quieted almost instantly and in barreled Derek, Isaac, Erica, and Lydia with Boyd and miraculously Jackson barricading whoever was out in the lobby from entering.

"Stiles," Derek acknowledged, his face going from his usual glare to something a little softer. It should have comforted Stiles but really, if Derek was being nice to him, Stiles was pretty sure he was probably dying. "How do you feel?"

Stiles immediately said nothing but slowly recovered when the silence began to grow into an uncomfortable length.

"Did anyone get the number of the bus that hit me?" Stiles groaned when the pain started to seep back into his bones. He was hoping his normal attempt at humor would put the werewolves and Lydia a little more at ease, but seeing that their friend and pack mate was in physical pain did nothing to relax them. 

"Can't you go one day without getting hurt?" Lydia asked haughtily but the tremble in her lips gave away her true feelings. 

Whatever was happening to Stiles was really shaking his pack and he could tell that by just looking at them. Scott looked ridiculously worried, Isaac was visibly shaking, Erica kept pulling at her hair in distress, Boyd looked indifferent but by the way he was tapping at his arm where they were crossed gave away his anxiety, even Jackson looked a little shaken and that was saying something. The real marvel was Derek and how his face was a mix between anger, worry, helplessness, and concern? Was Derek really concerned about him? What? 

"Hey, could you guys do me a favor?" Stiles asked looking around at his friends, his pack mates. "Could at least one of you look like I'm not gonna die?"

Everyone exchanged glances with each other and it made Stiles realize that it actually looked like he might die.


	6. Chapter 6

Doctor Deaton was a welcome distraction from Stiles thinking about his own mortality. He looked around at the teenagers all gathered in his backroom and continued on as if this was totally normal, and that was why Stiles thought Deaton was a virtual badass. 

"Mr. Stilinski, you must feel unwell." Deaton stated as he took out a penlight and stepped over to where Stiles was sagged into Scott's form. 

"What gave it away?" Stiles remarked feeling terrible but snuggling into his natural sarcasm like a beloved blankie. 

"From what the others tell me you were attacked in your home by a large man dressed in black?" Deaton finished with his initial examination and stepped back to watch Stiles as he attempted to keep his form upright. 

"With a crossbow. We mustn’t forget the crossbow." Stiles replied.

"Ah, yes, the crossbow, no we mustn’t." Deaton answered back giving Stiles a look that said that he thought what Stiles said was funny, but laughing would be ridiculous. "There are two men outside who I've called who can help with your… predicament. In fact they are quite adamant in helping."

Stiles drug his head up to stare at Deaton like he didn't know why he was telling him this. Thinking back on it, Stiles didn't exactly know why Deaton was telling him this. He felt terrible, making general statements that seemingly had nothing to do with him, was confusing.

"What is his predicament?" Derek grumbled from the other side of the metal table that Stiles had been laying on. His regular glare was so much deeper then it usually was and if Stiles didn't feel so crappy he might have been concerned that his face would stay that way.

"Well, I can't tell you the whole story, because I don't know it, but what I can tell you is that, what he saw in his house, what chased him into the preserve was called a Darklighter." Deaton explained. Stiles' hearing was pretty muffled from where he had one side of his face pressed into Scott's chest. He nodded sluggishly even though he didn't truly understand what it was that Deaton had even said. 

"Those men out there are _Witchlighters_ , and they are here to help-" Deaton was cut off by a snort from Derek that sounded as though he didn't believe that those men were here to do anything but start shit. 

Stiles dragged his head up from its resting position and glanced at Derek, "Do we not trust them?" He asked eyes widening and contracting in order to focus on the black-ish blob that he hoped was Derek. 

Derek's eyes were zeroed in on Stiles like he had been watching him the whole time. He had a fierce look on his face, but seeing Stiles' unfocused eyes on his; he turned to Deaton and asked, "Will they fix him?"

"Oh my God, yes!" Is heard from outside of the backroom. It was followed by a stomping sound and a yelp as someone experienced some type of pain.

"What's-" Stiles started but his head dropped down and he almost lost consciousness again. It was only Derek and Scott's fast reflexes that saved Stiles from face planting on the floor. "Oh god." 

"Let. Us. Help. Him!" A booming voice blasted in from the outside where the two men were waiting for an answer. The clinic shook ominously and the werewolves growled and casted glances around with hesitation. 

"What are they vampires? Why can't they just come in?" Erica asked irritated that this was all happening and confused as to why these two guys didn't just come in and get to work.

"They can't come in for the same reason you can't go out." Deaton answered sending a glare of his own at the front of the clinic. Apparently he didn't appreciate the dramatics. 

"The mountain ash?" Isaac muttered looking apprehensively at the closed door. He subtly moved closer to Derek during the small earthquake like event, and grabbed his own arms in an effort to make himself look smaller. 

"No, well yes," Deaton responded, "The mountain ash is keeping all of us in here and them out, but it shouldn't be responding to them or me for that matter, like this."

"What's going on with it?" Lydia asked from her position close to her boyfriend, not use to being the one who didn't have all the answers, and watching someone who had become a close friend of hers in pain.

Deaton turned back toward the metal table in the center of the room that the deathly pale teenager was sitting on and replied, "Stiles." 

"Stiles isn't doing anything, he can't even sit up by himself, how is he affecting the mountain ash?" Scott asked moving closer to his friend in a subconscious effort to protect him. 

"He is, but not on purpose, his will is affecting the fortitude of the mountain ash to the point of impenetrability. At this point, not even fully fledged humans would be able to step over that line." Deaton responded.

The group casted their eyes to Stiles who was only really catching half of the conversation, but he got the points that mattered and that seemed to be that it was his fault that he wasn't getting any better. He half-heartedly shrugged his shoulders because he has no idea what Deaton was talking about. 

"How?" Derek growled glaring at Deaton with a renewed level of anger. 

"That's the part of the story that I don't know, but what I do know is that if Stiles doesn't drop this... shield that he's created, it will drop on its own, when he dies." Deaton explained with the removed emotions of someone who is used to telling people bad news. 

The news does not go over well with the pack. There are ranging emotions from anger to disbelief to fear, but anger seemed to be a popular one. 

"Stiles cut it out, if they don't get in here, you could die." Lydia demanded, her fear coming out in an angry tirade that left her shaking.

"If I knew what I was doing... I would stop doing it." Stiles answered back. He could feel himself slipping further and further down into the depths, and he was terrified of what would happen if he closed his eyes.

"As I said, he's not doing it on purpose, in fact it is a defense tactic. He's trying to protect everyone." Deaton insisted his features softening as he looked around the room before settling back on Stiles. 

"Stiles, we're safe, you have to let go. You're hurting yourself, you need to stop this." Scott cried, he knew that his best friend was so close to being lost to him, he could feel it in how much pain that he was now drawing from him. 

Stiles looked from person to person in the room, at a lost at what he could do in order to stop wanting to protect these people. He would protect them until he died, and it looked like that might be what he was going to do. He felt too many emotions; he felt bad that he would be leaving his dad, Scott and the pack, he wanted to tell them so many things, he wanted to tell Derek so many things, but-

"Stiles?" A quiet and calm voice, completely different from the booming voice that had bellowed for entrance earlier, "Stiles, I know you would do anything for your friends, that you won't ever let go, because you always want to protect them, it's like breathing for you. But, you're not the only one this is killing. Somehow you're connected with our little sister and she's dying, just like you are and she needs you... we need you, to let us help."

Stiles heard these words and let the pure honesty and despair wash over him, he thought about this girl that hadn't done anything and how she didn't deserve to die because of him. He took a deep breath and as he let it out, suddenly two columns of light formed from the ceiling and floated down to the floor. Seconds from losing consciousness Stiles met emerald green eyes and heard, "Thank you." before falling back into someone's waiting arms, and passing out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little longer than the others.

Waking up after being nearly dead was like waking up after binge drinking all night. You're half wondering to yourself how it's possible that you're still alive and half wondering how much you're going to be throwing up in the next few minutes. A pleasant warm feeling was replacing the constant pain that he had been feeling for the past few hours, or had it been days, there was really no telling. 

An incredibly smiley face and blue eyes that were framed by short blonde hair greeted Stiles as the first thing that he saw when he opened his eyes for the first time after near death. 

"Well howdy there, Sunshine." The face greeted and if possible the smile got even wider. 

"Oh God I died. How the hell did I make it into heaven?" Stiles mused in honest confusion. He was met with snorted laughter and he was sure he could almost feel the rolled eyes from a few key people. 

"Close but it's not heaven; it's Fresno!" The happy-go-lucky person cheered back before being physically hauled back by a much more sedate person that Stiles vaguely remembered from BND (before near death). 

"We're not in Fresno, Wy." The sedate brunette individual greeted Stiles with a casual smile and a nod.

"No, you're not, but maybe you'd like to start explaining yourself while you get the hell away from him." A familiar voice and figure growled from somewhere behind Stiles. He could feel the rumble in Derek's voice from his back where apparently Derek was holding him. 

_Derek was holding him._

That was what shocked Stiles into abruptly sitting up and nearly dislodging himself from the table. 

"Whoa there cowboy, take it easy, you were really close to meeting your maker there for a second." 'Wy' admonished while steadying Stiles with a hand to his shoulder, but moving it as soon as Derek and some of the other werewolves growls became audible.

"What," Stiles started stopping for a second to clear his throat, "What's with the cowboy lingo?"

'Wy's smile had yet to diminish but he did pull off confused puppy quite well; almost as good as Scott. "Because we're south of San Fran."

"No, we're not." The quieter one said in exasperation. "How are you feeling?" He continued.

"Um, I'm good." Stiles felt down his side to where the gouge from earlier had been, but had now somehow disappeared leaving perfectly normal skin and bone where it once was. 

"Actually, I'm really good. What happened?"

"Dude it was crazy," Scott marveled moving closer to Stiles' side while keeping one eye on the people in the room that weren't pack. "You passed out and we all totally thought you kicked it," He stopped after that and gulped looking over Stiles' shoulder for a second and then refocusing on his best friend. "Uh, and then- and then the blonde guy put his hand over the wound and some weird gold light started to like come out of it, and your skin just like totally started to heal, like even faster than us." Scott moved closer to Stiles, glancing back over Stiles' shoulder again as he pulled his best friend into a hug, just to reassure himself that Stiles was still alive. 

Stiles returned the hug, wanting to look back over his shoulder at what Scott was seeing, but instead looking over Scott shoulder to see his pack in various states of less freaked out then they had been when he last saw them.

Lydia was tucked into Jackson’s side head resting on his shoulder alternating between giving him a sweet smile, and glaring perceptively at their new visitors. Jackson was outright frowning at them, but that seemed to be Jackson’s main facial expression when he wasn’t kicking ass on the Lacrosse field. Stiles noticed that Jackson’s frown had a shocking resemblance to the frown that Derek almost always had on his face; maybe he would talk to Derek about that. 

Isaac was perched on the edge of one of the other tables across from where Stiles had been laying. He was in a position that almost looked uncomfortable, with his body hunched in and one leg drawn up to tuck into his chest. He was staring at Stiles with an expression of worry as if Stiles might drop and never wake up again. Considering that was almost exactly what he did, he would indulge the kid in his worry. Stiles sent what he hoped was a reassuring smile toward Isaac to try and ease his tension and by the way that Isaac tentatively smiled back, he had succeeded.

Erica and Boyd were tense and had openly hostile body language toward the two new people that had ‘infiltrated’ the area that their pack was in. Erica was leaning against the bigger body almost too casual as she twirled her hair and sent stifling glares at the two. Boyd was like a statue of marble, incredibly still, incredibly angry looking, and all protective. They both spared a second to flash a concerned and grateful smile toward Stiles when they felt his gaze on them, but then they went right back to sentry mode.

The only two people who Stiles couldn’t see were Derek, who was clearly behind him, and Deaton, who was probably off doing some super-secret thing that he would only tell them about later in patches of conversation, which reminded Stiles that he had a bone to pick with the good doctor, there was no way in heaven or on earth that he didn’t know more about why the hell Stiles, little, helpless human, Stiles could fortify a mountain ash line with such tenacity that he almost paid for it with his life.

“That was exhilarating, but it’s over now. We can all go home, right?” Stiles asked hopefully. He was expecting the exasperation and the head shakes from his pack, he was not expecting the huff of amusement accompanying a smile, and raised eyebrows respectively from the new people. “A kid can dream.” Stiles conceded slumping backward. He forgot himself as he felt his back hit a solid wall of were-person, Alpha were-person, behind him and had to stop himself from jumping back up into a full sitting position, making things even more awkward. If Derek was going to be behind him, holding him while he was unconscious, then he would just have to deal with Stiles using him as a headrest. This was probably the only time Derek would allow this to happen outside of Stiles’ sickeningly domestic daydreams, and he was going to take full advantage of it. He felt Derek tense for just a moment before minutely relaxing and shifting slightly like there was nothing he could do about this and simply resigned himself to being Stiles’ body pillow. 

Everyone but the visitors looked tense and uncomfortable and Stiles supposed that it was probably his fault that all of these extremely wound up personalities were all in the same room at the same time anyway, so he did what he did best, and broke the silence. 

“I really appreciate what you did, even though I don’t know how you did it or who you are, but this is actually shockingly normal for this town so I won’t dwell.” Stiles started, feeling that it was then the perfect time to stop using Derek as a conduit for his ridiculous fantasy and moved to sit up. He was not expecting the growl and shift that made it difficult to sit up like he wanted. He glanced back, but was faced with Derek’s red Henley that lead up to a column of pale skin that Stiles kind of wanted to lick.

“I’m just gonna stand up, buddy.” Stiles reassured the Alpha wondering what his problem was.

“You shouldn’t be up.” Derek murmured back, voice so low that Stiles doubted that the betas even heard him. “You almost died.”

Stiles turned forward and saw the simultaneous reaction from his pack. They heard that one. 

“But I didn’t,” Stiles stated, “And I’m fine. Besides, we have bigger problems.” 

Scott and surprisingly the quiet brunette visitor both looked like they were going to protest his statement, and for some reason Stiles could feel the hitch in Derek’s breath that made it feel like he was going to say something. 

Stiles barreled on sensing that he didn’t want to hear Derek say something scathing after almost death, “I’m assuming since I’m now miraculously better that your sister is now miraculously better?” Stiles asked slipping off the table and patting Scott on the shoulder when his best friend grabbed his upper arm to steady him. He would tell himself that he wouldn’t miss the warm feeling and the grumbling sound that Derek imprinted on him, but he would be a vicious liar. 

Both ‘Wy’ and the brunette winced at the fact that they may have forgotten about their sister with all of the ruckus that went on. The tall blonde man cocked his head to the side as if he were listening to something, eerily reminiscent of the way that the wolves all used their super hearing. 

“Yeah,” Wy said, “She’s pretty pissed. We should probably go get her.” 

The brunette nodded and turned toward the door. Stiles, Derek, and the rest of the pack all shared inquisitive glances wondering what the hell just went on. Stiles remembered something just as the two visitors reached the door. 

“Hey guys, sorry, but where did you say your sister was?” 

The question caused the duo to turn back around and the brunette answered, “Well she looked like hell and it seemed like a dick move to leave her somewhere where she couldn’t protect herself, or at least have someone else to protect her.” He stopped and glanced back at his companion with a guilty expression on his face. “We would have brought someone else with us but… That wasn’t an option.” 

The taller one was nodding along with the story and then took it up when there was a pause, “So we thought the best place for a sick person to go when they looked that sick for no apparent reason, was the hospital.” He looked around at the room that they were all inhabiting, “Of course we didn’t know the friendly neighborhood Vet was of the wiccan variety, otherwise we would have come here first.” 

“So you left her at the hospital?” Isaac questioned from his continued seat on the metal table. He turned toward where Stiles and Scott were standing and asked, “She should be safe there right? Melissa’s on tonight.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles said slowly, “There could be some other issues though.” 

Derek turned from his perpetual glaring at their visitors to spare a blank look at Stiles. “What other issues?”

Stiles glanced at Scott and lifted his hand rubbing at the back of his head like he does when they do something stupid. Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Jackson, and Lydia were all in different states of exasperation and Derek let out a controlled sigh. “What did you do?”

“Well,” Another sigh, “We were concerned that there would be blowback from all of the supernatural problems that we’ve been dealing with, and especially after the thing with Grandpa Doomsday and Scott’s mom,” Stiles stopped and squeezed Scott’s shoulder when his best friend winced at the memory of Gerard. “Sorry bro.”

Scott shrugged and shook his head intent on getting over it; he started up where Stiles stopped, “We asked Deaton the best way to keep people safe without like sacrificing goats or whatever,” There was a squawk of indignation from ‘Wy’ but Scott barely seemed to notice. “He told us-”

“Wards and Mountain ash.” Deaton said walking back into the room full of people. He was holding an old book that had rune looking symbols carved all over it. “The best way to protect someone who knows nothing about the supernatural.”

“So you covered the hospital in wards and mountain ash, that doesn’t sound too bad.” Lydia said thinking that it wasn’t actually that bad of an idea.

“At first it was the hospital,” Stiles said.

“At first?” Jackson sneered.

“At first it was the hospital,” Scott continued, “But then, Stiles was worried that some other key places would be on the radar so we also did them.”

“Let me guess, the Sheriff’s station, the school, your houses?” Deaton asked as he wasn’t fully aware of all of the places that the teens had warded after giving them advice. 

“The Sheriff’s station for sure, but we couldn’t get to the school, Finstock is there all summer and if he catches you on school property when you shouldn’t be he makes you do a shit ton of suicides and listen to the Independence Day speech on repeat. Nothing is worth that hell.” Stiles stated shuddering at the very thought.

“So yeah, Sheriff’s station, the hospital, and our houses.” Scott said with certainty. He didn’t look ashamed of what they had done; it was all in the name of protection. They just wanted their families to be safe.

“Just your houses?” Derek asked suspicion bleeding into his voice.

“Just our houses.” Scott confirmed. He looked toward Derek, but realized after he answered him that Derek wasn’t looking his direction, he was looking at Stiles.

“Not just our houses.” Stiles reluctantly answered. 

Scott raised an eyebrow at his best friend while asking, “What are you talking about dude? We only did your dad’s station, the hospital, and both of our houses.”

Stiles kept his gaze firmly on the ground as he answered, “Well, a few weeks after we did that, I was still worried about some other places so I did it to a few others just in case.”

“Whose?” Derek asked carefully. He didn’t want to sound like he was angry at Stiles for this uncontrollable act of protection, but it would have been nice to know where in Beacon Hills they would bounce off of because of mountain ash.

“Oh you know only Boyd’s parent’s place, Erica’s place, Isaac’s old place, Allison’s place, Lydia’s place, the lake house, Jackson’s place, and the Hale house.” Stiles admitted quickly and quietly and was met with total silence. He glanced up and was greeted with incredulous and shocked stares from his pack, the visitors, and Deaton.

Surprisingly it was Jackson who recovered first, “What?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Stiles shrugged resigned to the fact that his friends now knew the extent of his manic, protective behavior. “Whatever, the point is that it can only be activated by completing the line and the only one who even knows about that is-”

“My mom.” Scott finished for him, seemingly over the fact that Stiles had went crazy with wards and mountain ash and basically bubble wrapped everyone who meant something to him. The others were coming out of their stupors and were looking at Stiles with varying expressions that Stiles couldn’t fully decipher, especially not Derek’s, who was looking at Stiles with the same expression he had when Stiles woke up dying; equal parts confused, angry, exasperated, and concerned? Was Derek really concerned?

“Right, so if everything went as it usually does, Melissa would have completed the line, the mountain ash would have activated, and that’s the other issue that I mentioned earlier,” Stiles hurried on, hoping that his friends wouldn’t delve too much into his manic behavior. “If that mountain ash is acting crazy because of me too, then we might have a problem.”

“Alright,” Derek acknowledged giving Stiles a look that spoke volumes to the tone of ‘we will be talking about this later’ and pushed on. He turned toward the visitors and dictated, “Stiles, Scott, and I will go with you and figure out how to get into the hospital, Deaton if you could be on speed dial in case we can’t manage it, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, go and see if you can all still get into your respective houses, and Lydia and Jackson stay here with Deaton and try to figure out what the hell is going on with… everything.”

And so the plan was set.


	8. Chapter 8

“But why didn’t you tell _me_?” Scott whined as they walked toward the hospital entrance. After an awkward and uneventful car ride, where the only people actively trying to remain calm were the visitors, the group finally made it to Beacon Hills Memorial where they would try to break in to break out the third visitor.

“Because I didn’t want to make it weird dude.” Stiles sighed feeling like that was the seven-hundredth time Scott had asked about why Stiles had done what he’d done.

The blonde visitor was on Stiles’ right, he had raised an eyebrow when he asked, “And how’s that working out for you?”

“Not great!” Stiles exclaimed flailing his arms around with an explosion of exasperation. 

The visitor chuckled at Stiles like he was watching a particularly animated animal trying to figure things out; which did absolutely nothing for Stiles’ mood. He couldn’t wait until they had to explain all of this to Melissa, he was just fortunate that his dad didn’t know anything about this yet. Telling a man, the sheriff no less, that someone had tried to kill his only son with a crossbow and now said son, all better by the way, was on his way with two glowy handed _Witchlighters_ to break their probably glowy handed _Witchlighter_ little sister out of the hospital because the spark inside said son was fortifying an invisible shield to protect his best friend’s mom. 

Yeah, that didn’t sound crazy at all. 

“But you’re my _best friend_ bro, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” Scott whined for the seven-hundredth and first time. 

“Scott, shut up.” Derek growled from the front of their little group. Stiles glanced toward the Alpha and couldn’t help the slight blush that was starting to creep up his neck. He could still feel the heated glare that Derek sent his way while they were in their uneventful ride to the hospital. It felt like sunburn with how hard his gaze had lasered onto the side of Stiles’ face. Stiles couldn’t tell if Derek was angry, disappointed, or contemplating Stiles’ murder and how best to get away with it. Stiles didn’t want to think too hard about it because it made his chest ache and he didn’t have time for that. 

Speaking of Melissa, who no one was, “Hey, what are your names?” Stiles asked seemingly out of nowhere, but it was a valid question. Stiles had been calling them visitors one, two, and three in his head for the better part of knowing about them. The brunette who was nearest to Derek in the front of their group turned slightly to look at the blonde. They shared some kind of moment, that looked a little like telepathy, if you asked Stiles, and then they simultaneously shrugged. 

“I’m Wyatt, that’s my little brother Chris, and the person we’re trying to find is our little sister Melinda.” The blonde, Wyatt, introduced. Stiles nodded to himself as they kept walking, but was soon forced to a stop by a _wall_ better known as Derek freakin’ Hale. In fact, Scott was forced to stop walking too because Derek had been directly in front of both of them and now he was **directly** in front of both of them. 

“Wha-” Stiles started but was silenced by the part of Derek’s face that he could see. Derek looked angry. Well, Derek actually always looked angry, but this was different, this anger was mixed with confusion, suspicion, and fear? Was Alpha Derek freakin’ Hale afraid? 

If Derek was scared, Stiles was terrified. 

“Wyatt, Chris, and Melinda?” Derek growled quietly, if that was even possible. Wyatt had not stopped walking when Derek had so he was standing beside Chris, a little in front of him, much to what looked like Chris’ annoyance, and watched Derek cautiously.

“Do you know them?” Stiles asked head ping-ponging from Derek to the _Witchlighters_ and back again. 

Derek growled again, but this time it was closer to Werewolf then human. Stiles looked over just in time to see Derek shift from his normal visage to that of the more werewolf persuasion. Inadvertently Scott shifted too because the Alpha of the group shifted and Scott was a mere beta.

A growled, _“Halliwells.”_ Could be heard from Derek and he looked ready for murder.

On the other side of the arena, Wyatt and Chris had both taken up fighting stances and were also ready to fight if it came to it. Chris’ hands were balled into fists as he watched the proceedings, beside him Wyatt was looking a lot more vengeful then he had been a minute ago. He looked downright god-like with his stature on point, and the fact that he had a _ball of electricity_ in his hand that could probably casually kill any one of them.

“Halli-whats?” Stiles’ stuttered astonished that things had gone from zero to one hundred at such an incredible rate. Derek and Scott were barring their teeth and had claws at the ready, while Wyatt and Chris looked just as happy to tear some throats out, as the werewolves did. 

Stiles didn’t think, which some people would say was his main problem.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey!” Stiles yelled as he stupidly ran in between the two supernatural forces with his hands held out to stop each side. “Wait, wait, _oh my god what am I doing_ , wait!”

Stiles’ eyes skittered erratically from his pack to the two _Witchlighters_ and he vaguely realized that he was not in a good position. He cursed seconds-ago-Stiles that thought that this would turn out to be a good idea. Stiles was about to lose the nerve to be standing in between two such solid sources of power, but then Derek caught his eye, and looking closer Stiles could see that Derek’s red Alpha eyes had widened and shifted from Alpha red to his normal human color. Stiles’ intervention had shocked Derek out of his murderous rage and he was staring at Stiles like couldn’t believe the stupid shit Stiles would do. 

“Stop! This can’t- we don’t have time for this.” Stiles panted out a shaky breath betraying how nervous he was to be standing where he was standing and doing what he was doing. Stiles took a deep breath and then made a decision. He turned and lowered his hands facing his pack, with his back to the _Witchlighters_ , and spoke. “Look, I know you don’t trust them, but they saved my life. You don’t trust them, you don’t trust anyone, but Derek, I need you to trust me; just this once. I need you; we don’t have time for this.”

Derek still looked pissed, but that could mean anything, and just when Stiles thought that nothing he said would ever matter to the Alpha; Derek gave Stiles a single nod and retracted his claws which was a cue for Scott to do the same. Stiles turned around facing Wyatt and Chris as they lowered their arms and quelled the ball of electricity. 

Stiles breathed out a shaky sigh of relief as he lowered his head and tried to find a way to hide that his hands were kind of shaking too. He lifted his gaze to find everyone staring at him with some varying degrees of concern. “Okay,” Stiles stated, “Shall we?” He asked, and walked past Wyatt and Chris with determination willing himself not to turn around or do anything else that he would be regretting later. 

He felt more then saw Scott run up so that he was walking beside him again and he trusted that the other three would be along shortly, or they would kill each other; either way, Stiles was on his way to the hospital entrance and he was confident in the fact that had done all he could to make the situation non-deadly for everyone. 

His thoughts and panic at what had happened in the last few hours of his life were interrupted by Scott’s phone going off. _Darth Vader’s_ intro played obnoxiously a few times before Scott could pull the device out of his back pocket. He glared at Stiles for the ringtone, which he couldn’t figure out how to change, while he answered his phone. 

“Hello?” Scott answered. 

Stiles was listening, but he got distracted as he felt a brush of something on the other side of his body and realized that Derek had regained footing and was now walking side by side with Stiles. Stiles would have blushed or flailed or done something extensive if he weren’t still slightly panicked that everyone might kill each other. Apparently Derek could smell the anxiety that probably wafted off of the teenager and his answering action was to grab Stiles’ neck and squeeze gently, which shouldn’t have helped Stiles’ heart rate or situation at all, but the grip was comforting and it made Stile melt a little. 

He pulled himself together again as Derek’s hand slid off of his neck when they both heard what Scott was saying to his mother, “Mom, calm down, what’s happening?” 

Stiles was close enough that he clearly heard what Melissa was saying through the phone without straining his ears.

“Scott, honey, what’s happening is that nobody can get in or out of the hospital, it’s like some sort of _invisible_ force field is stopping everyone, and I do mean everyone, from entering the _medical healthcare facility_ where our main business is admitting people to the building-”

Scott was nodding along with what his mother was saying, even though she couldn’t see him doing that. “Mom we know, it’s- it has something to do with Stiles, we’re on our way, almost to the entrance.”

“You know? Stiles? Is he okay? What’s going on?” Melissa rapidly fired off. Scott glanced at Stiles and lifted his eyes to the heavens as he bit back the urge to sigh.

“Stiles is-,” Scott paused eyeing his best friend curiously which caused Stiles to stare back at him with raised eyebrows. “We’re on our way. Is that all that’s happening?”

Scott, Stiles, and Derek cringed when they heard the tirade of angry words that Melissa yelled into the phone. Apparently that was the wrong question to ask to a stressed and confused Nurse.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I meant are any other _weird_ things happening?” Scott rectified, fearing his mother’s wrath that had been rained down through the phone. 

“Well,” Melissa responded while dropping her voice, which signified that things were about to get weird. Stiles barley heard her, but he could make out the first few sentences at least. “A girl around your age came in about fifteen minutes ago; she looked so close to death we had a priest on standby,” Scott gulped while he listened to his mother and his eyes fearfully found Stiles’ as he thought about what could have been. “When miraculously she suddenly sat up, completely healed, and then she disappeared.”

Stiles looked back at Wyatt and Chris to see if they heard what Melissa had said. They seemed to be having a heated discussion the likes of which Stiles couldn’t tell.

“Disappeared? What’d she walk off?” Scott asked scratching the back of his head with a confused puppy look coloring his face. 

“No Scott, she _disappeared_. Like one second she was there, the next second she was not; _disappeared_.” Melissa seethed probably wondering how this was her life. “Is that something that has to do with Stiles too?” 

Scott glanced back at Stiles and raised his eyebrows confusion and weariness creeping in, “Probably.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little longer too.

The group made it to the hospital with no casualties, which was considered a win in Stiles’ book, because you have to appreciate the small stuff. Derek was still switching off between glaring at Chris and Wyatt, and sending indecipherably aggravating looks at Stiles when he thought Stiles wasn’t looking. Scott had stopped looking at Stiles like he had broken the ultimate bro code by not letting him in on his devious, read: psychotic, plan to make sure everyone in Stiles’ life was the bubble boy without their knowledge.

Stiles was just trying to remember why waking up that morning had seemed like such a good idea.

When they reached the entrance they were greeted with the sight of people milling around outside of the entrance, forced a few feet away, banging on what looked like thin air, but what was in fact mountain ash that was preventing them from entering the building. Stiles could see Melissa just inside the invisible line vigorously rubbing her foot on something on the ground as if she was trying to erase chalk. It looked bad, but there were only about fifteen people on one side of the line and maybe seven on the other side. There had to be some kind of explanation that made the fact that no one could enter the building plausible. At least no traumas had come in and no one looked like they were bleeding excessively.

Stiles let out a rush of air he had no intention of holding when he saw that things weren’t quite as bad as they could have been. 

Then the crowd parted again and Stiles’ life flashed before his eyes. 

There, standing close the entrance, leaning up against the barrier like it was a wall, which it kind of was, although Stiles knew he was only doing it because if he couldn’t _feel_ it he wouldn’t believe that it was there, was none other than Sheriff Stilinski, doing his best.

“Oh crap…” Stile muttered dropping his head a little when they approached the entrance. Scott had run ahead and was talking to Melissa from one side of the barrier, trying his hardest not to touch the mountain ash barrier that would make him go flying off unexplainably. 

Derek looked at Stiles and then glanced around for a second before his eyes settled on Sheriff Stilinski and then went back to Stiles. “You thought he wouldn’t show up for this?”

“I was kind of hoping.” Stiles gulped. He tried to block himself from being seen by his law enforcement father, but it was like the Sheriff had some type of homing beacon for whenever his son was near. Suddenly the Sheriff’s head snapped up and he searched around before his eyes found Stiles, who was trying his best not to be seen.

“Who’s that?” Was asked from somewhere behind Stiles. Wyatt and Chris, although Stiles didn’t know what a _Witchlighter_ was exactly, seemed incredibly calm for the goings-on around them. That lead Stiles to believe that the two young men probably faced the kind of messed up shit that the Hale/McCall pack faced on the daily. 

“Oh no one, just the bringer of doom, the harbinger of punishments, the dark cloud of the Beacon that is Beacon Hills.” Stiles rattled off as they stopped just short of running into Scott. Chris and Wyatt shared an amusement glance. 

“Who?” Wyatt asked again. 

“His-” Derek started. 

“Dad! Hey, how’s it going? How are you on this fine, uneventful, basically non-existent day?” Stiles exclaimed watching his dad walk up to the group. The sheriff had a suspicious look on face with eyebrows that read exasperation as he addressed his only son.

“I thought you were getting school supplies today.” The sheriff responded, apparently another ‘mysterious’ thing happening in Beacon Hills did nothing to deter him from parenting.

“I did, I was, I have,” Stiles answered back. “I was hanging out with Scott when he remembered that he had to drop something off for Melissa… here… at the hospital. I thought I’d come with him and now we are here, talking to you.” Stiles can see Derek shaking his head after an epic eye roll, hell Stiles was surprised his eyes were still in their sockets. 

The sheriff was nodding his head but he didn’t quite look like he believed what Stiles was telling him. “And who are your friends?” He inquired looking over his son shoulder directly at the _Witchlighters_ who weren’t even trying to hide their amusement. 

“Uh, well you know Derek.” Stiles started only to wince when he remembered his father’s extensive history with a certain Sourwolf and arresting him, twice, and the fact that Stiles himself continuously told his dad that he didn’t know Derek that much at all, despite the crush thing-ie Stiles was still trying to figure out. Stiles rushed on hoping to keep his dad from getting too angry, “And this is Chris and that’s Wyatt. They hail from… Um...” Stiles stuttered after pointing out the two young men behind them in turn. 

“San Francisco, sir.” Wyatt said coming to Stiles’ rescue. “We’re friends of Derek.” The blonde _Witchlighter_ then makes the bold and **stupid** decision to clap Derek on the shoulder. The resounding growl heard from Derek made the hair on Stiles’ arms stand up on end, and caused Sheriff Stilinski to step back slightly and put his hand to his holster. 

“Did he say Derek?” Chris asked grabbing Wyatt’s hand and snatching it off of the werewolf’s shoulder. “He meant Deaton. We just met Derek, he definitely meant Deaton, didn’t you Wy?”

“Yes.” Wyatt responded quickly; he warily watching Derek from under raised eyebrows.

Stiles looked up, praying to those deities again to bring him strength. “What are you doing here?” 

“Hell if I know,” The sheriff replied still staring cautiously at Hale. “Someone called the station and complained that they couldn’t get in the hospital. They did not however mention some type of use-the-force field dome around the place.” 

Both Scott and Melissa turned toward the group and gave the same, ‘What the Hell?’ look that prompted Stiles to make a face as he asked, “Seriously?” at the same time as Wyatt. They shared a fist bump much to the chagrin of everyone around them. 

“I wonder what it is.” Melissa stated, not at all like a question, her sharp eyes following her son’s best friend. She made Stiles fidget as his eyes wondered around to avoid her piercing stare.

“Me too,” Sheriff Stilinski grumbled. He eyed Chris and Wyatt and then switched his glare to Derek before finally settling on his son where his eyes softened a little around the edges. “Be good.” He walked away back toward the rest of the police officers milling around another part of the mountain ash shielded hospital. 

Stiles was still nodding at his father’s parting words when Scott grabbed his arm and pulled him over to where his mother was. 

“Dude, bring it down.” Stiles gave Scott a flat look that spoke volumes.

“Again, if I knew what I was doing…” Stiles trailed off. He looked at the empty air casting his gaze up and down as if there might be some type of switch that could be flicked and then everything would go back to normal. _If only_ , Stiles thought. He turned back around to see the assembled group staring at him as if he were about to spout something insanely profound and fix everything. 

“Ideas are not unwarranted.” Stiles insisted. 

“Why don’t you just take a deep breath? That seemed to work last time.” Derek responded. He looked about as uncomfortable speaking his idea out loud as Stiles looked whenever he did much of anything.

“Breathing? That’s your big idea?” Wyatt scoffed, “Why doesn’t he just stare at it until it submits?”

“Listen Hocus Pocus, I don’t think-”

“Oh you don’t think? That sounds about right-” 

“Keep talking, I’m gonna have fun ripping your throat out-”

“Let me guess, ‘with your teeth’? How adorable-”

“Enough!” Stiles shouted glaring from Derek to Wyatt and back again. “My god, it’s like you’re both in kindergarten.”

“Hey!” Wyatt exclaimed while Derek grunted and glared daggers at the blonde _witchlighter_. 

“Just let me think.” Stiles grumbled, he paced around for a second before taking his dad’s lead and casually leaned against the shield, confident that it wouldn’t budge under his form. 

“Stiles-”

“Shh.” 

“Maybe don’t-”

“Shh!”

“I don’t think you should-”

“ _Oh my god_ , shut up!” Stiles exclaimed throwing his hands up in exasperation and his head back several times to punctuate his words that are tinged with anger. “I don’t know how to make this stupid thing come down, but if you think I’m not trying to _think_ of something, anything then you are sorely mistake-” And that was when Stiles fell through the shield, and had Derek not been right beside him reaching for his arm to pull him away, there was a good chance that Stiles would have ended up staying the night in the hospital for a concussion.

The people around the hospital cheered while some looked around anxiously trying to figure out what changed and why the shield was suddenly down, including the police and the Sheriff. The group assembled stayed where they were when everyone went to move inside of or get out of the hospital. The reason was because of the sparkly blue light that had just floated casually from the hospital to behind a bush, punctuated by a painful sounding thud.

All too soon, before anyone could move, a girl around the age of sixteen popped up from behind the bush. She was brunette with long stunning hair, slender, gorgeous, and absolutely livid if her expression was anything to go by.

“It’s about damn time!” She yelled at the group, focusing primarily on Wyatt and Chris. They both winced and Stiles couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for them, she looked _pissed._

“Mel-” Chris started.

“Don’t you Mel me, Christopher Perry!” Melinda exclaimed as she fought her way out of the bush. She only stopped struggling and yelling when Scott rushed over and held out his arm. She gripped it gratefully and stepped the rest of the way onto the concrete. “Thank you.”

“Why are you nice to him?” Wyatt mumbled barely audible, but it was apparently loud enough for Mel to hear.

“Why am I nice to him? Why, Wyatt Matthew? Maybe because he didn’t drag me to the middle of freakin’ Fresno and drop me off at a hospital without so much as a goodbye, while I was dying!” Mel belted walking menacingly toward her older brothers. They visibly shrunk back as she approached; Stiles could swear he heard one of the _Witchlighters_ muttering something about her being ‘just like mom’.

“This isn’t Fresno.” Eyes widening Stiles cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Why would he say anything at all, let alone to someone who looked half as angry as she did? His friends were right, he had a death wish. 

The furious teenager turned her head slowly giving Stiles a glare that could easily rival that of Derek Hale. “This isn’t Fresno? You just heard me yelling at them for leaving me while I was _dying_ in an unfamiliar place with no one around me to even explain what the hell was going on, and all you can say is ‘This isn’t Fresno’!” She turned toward him and advanced like she was about to grab him, Stiles leaned back, like that was going to help him at all. 

“Mel-” Chris started again, moving forward to stop her from physically assaulting someone they just met. Melinda raised her hand to stop him from continuing, furthering her tirade toward Stiles. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just, we got you out, the least you could do is say thank you.” Stiles admonished standing his ground and regretting ever second of it. Derek, Scott, and Melissa were staring at him with raised eyebrows, like they had never met him before. Chris and Wyatt on the other hand were trying their hardest not to laugh.

“Ugh, who are you?” Mel sneered, “I don’t even know your name and I want to strangle you till you stop talking.” She got even closer, but Stiles was more focused on the fact that someone, Derek, had muttered ‘Welcome to our world’ like Stiles wouldn’t be able to hear him from three feet away. Turning his head toward Derek for those few precious moments would be his downfall.

All Stiles heard was a warning from someone to watch out and then there was flash of light, burning pain, and darkness.

Ugh.


	10. Chapter 10

Waking up after being electrocuted was not at all like waking up after near death. The last time Stiles pried his eyes open, only to find himself lying supine, wondering what the hell just happened; he had woken to a bright smiling face staring down at him welcoming him back. This time all he woke to was white, white, and then the love of his life, but he wasn’t smiling. 

“Hey,” Derek spoke quietly, almost like he was afraid that he would startle Stiles if he spoke in his normal growly way. 

“Ughhh.” Stiles sighed and _yeah, that was intelligent_. 

Although Stiles felt like road kill, again, it seemed that Derek understood him anyway. 

“You alright?” Derek asked still basically whispering.

“Mmmm.” 

“Yeah, you’ll be feeling that for a while; what happened was kind of unexpected.” Derek moved back a little, but he was still in Stiles’ eye line so Stiles didn’t have to move around too much to keep his eyes on the Alpha.

“Uhhh?”

“After that girl _touched_ you,” Derek’s voice dropping when he said _touched_ , a growl sounded from his mouth. He took a second to compose himself; Stiles could swear he saw Alpha red bleeding into Derek’s eyes for a moment before Derek was back in control. “This spark of light came from nowhere and the both of you went flying off in opposite directions.” 

“Huh.”

“Yeah, well she’s lucky she was knocked unconscious and those witches disappeared with her before I could get my hands on her.” Hands clenched into fists probably hiding elongating claws. 

“Ahhh!” 

“She could have killed you.” Derek seethed, moving from Stiles’ eye line for a moment. Before Stiles could really start to panic, he came back holding a glass of water with a straw in it. If Stiles wasn’t positive that he was in fact alive, he would swear on all that was holy that this was the afterlife and death wasn’t actually all that bad. 

Truth be told Stiles was a little too groggy to fully grasp the fact that _Derek freakin’ Hale_ was at his bedside when he woke up, holding out a straw, and helping Stiles drink from said straw without any sort of complaint or eye rolling. Stiles looked around for a moment confirming his suspicions about where he thought he was. Blood pressure cuff, IV tubing, heart monitors, and an uncomfortable tickling under his nose all supported the fact that he was in the hospital. A glance out the window told the teenager that it wasn’t all that late in the day, he had been out for maybe two or three hours.

“Whe-” Stiles started trying to take a crack at that talking thing he’d been avoiding so far. 

“You’re in the hospital, your dad is down the hall getting some coffee, Scott and the others are in the waiting room, everyone is fine but _you_.” Derek answered dutifully.

Stiles nodded satisfied with the information provided. He kept nodding until he felt a gentle hand make him stop. He blinked his eyes open, not realizing that he even closed them, and followed the wrist in front of his face up to the arm that lead to the body of the man that he loved. He tried to smile at Derek, but he was pretty sure it came out a lopsided mess. 

“You should rest, you almost died.” Derek said softly watching as Stiles blinked owlishly at him. Stiles knew he probably looked weird, weak or pathetic or something, because Derek had that weird look on his face again; the one that Stiles had trouble deciphering. 

“Déjà vu.” Stiles muttered his eyes slipping closed. He must have been more out of it then he thought because he could have sworn he felt that gentle hand petting his head softly, and an equally gentle voice saying fondly, “Not quite.”


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles was released from the hospital the next day. The doctors, or more importantly his dad, wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t drop dead from the residual effects of being “electrocuted”. Getting back home Stiles realized that the day that he suffered through was in no way normal, but honestly, it also wasn’t the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him; but it was definitely top ten. 

Scott, Isaac, and surprisingly Derek were super keen on being around Stiles at all times, which Stiles _gets_ because it’s hard going through crazy shit, but it’s a little easier when people go through it with you. If Stiles had to suffer through anxious glances, soft voices, and hanging out with his best bro like twenty-four seven, then his life wasn’t all that bad. 

Of course, even niceties could get on a person’s nerves after days of stepping lightly around his dad, Scott, Isaac, and at this point, predictably Derek. Stiles wasn’t one to snap lightly at anyone, if they were annoying him he either put up with it, ignored them, or snapped back; or he talked them into submission with well-placed sarcasm and whit. Which is why it was so shocking that Stiles was feeling such animosity toward the people who he cared most about in his life.

He found himself huffing in annoyance at Scott’s persistent happiness, trying to actively avoid Isaac’s clinginess, dodging his dad’s concerned looks and avoiding talking to him about anything, including what happened at the hospital; but what was most shocking was the fact that Stiles was matching the infamous _Derek Hale’s_ glare and actually winning glare-offs with said Alpha werewolf.

The rest of the pack had limited time to spend with Stiles, but even they could sense that something seemed to be ‘up’ with him. It wasn’t until he was sneering at Isaac to _stop staring at me like I’m going to die_ that he realized that maybe he wasn’t at his best. The real problem with his new grim attitude was that the feelings of anger, apathy, and wanting to distance himself from everyone didn’t seem to be _him_. His feelings weren’t his own, and that probably should have been more worrisome then it was. Thank god school wasn’t in session yet, the way Stiles was acting and the amount of pure sass that had been rolling off of him in droves would probably have gotten him detention for the rest of his high school career. 

Stiles was on his laptop, his attention split between researching Lamias, (Lami-as? La-mi-as? _La_ mias?) which Derek had said something about at their last pack meeting, and looking up images that were representations of the word cataclysmic, for some reason. 

He had just minimized a page of quotes of _The Raven_ by Edgar Allen Poe, when a bright light and some thudding brought his attention to his window. 

“Dude, what the hell is that light? Did you leave the Camaro’s lights o-” Stiles turned in his chair to see none other than Melinda Halliwell as she lived and broke and entered into his bedroom.

Stiles took it well, meaning he only flailed a little as he fell backward off of his computer chair and shrieked. He was only too lucky his dad had the night shift again, or not only would he have had to explain the girl in his room, but he also would have had to explain the shriek that he would never be able to live down. 

“Did you just scream?” Melinda asked dropping down onto Stiles’ bed like SHE WAS INVITED INTO HIS ROOM! 

“No!” Stiles stood pulling his chair upright. “What are you doing here? And for the love of God, how did you get in?” 

Melinda looked completely relaxed in his element. She was on her cell phone, leaning back on Stiles’ headboard. Her eyes were primarily focused on whatever she was doing, but Stiles’ could see them tracking around his room, looking at the various things that he had hanging on his walls, clothes thrown around his room, and papers scattered on the floor. She looked around the room like she had brothers, because the mess and scattered papers didn’t seem to bother her. 

“So we’re just going to make ourselves at home, are we?” Stiles muttered sitting back down on his chair and turning it to face Mel.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Stiles could feel a justifiable scowl on his face because this girl was systematically making his life difficult. “So what do you need on this fine, _why are you here_ , evening?” 

Melinda looked up at that and gave Stiles a scathing look. Her eyes said ‘I will murder you’, but her mouth was tilted up at the side like she was genuinely enjoying his presence. “I do need something,” She sat up on the bed properly, dropping her phone into her lap. “I need you to tell me why I’m so damn happy all the time, can you do that _Stiles_ , can you tell me that?”

“You just won the lottery? You got your mortgage paid off? You. Are. The missing link? How the hell should I know why _you’re_ so happy? Who do I look like, your shrink?” Stiles seethed sarcastically. By the look of her wide eyes and half-opened mouth, Stiles wondered if she thought that he was going to say something mundane like, ‘I don’t know.’ Of course, that’s not how Stiles rolled.

“Someone seems a little testy.” She pocketed her phone and moved to stand next to the bed.

“I know!” Stiles yelled standing up so she wasn’t looking down at him. It made him feel better not to always be looking up at people. “I don’t know why.” Stiles threw himself back in his chair, crossing his arms. He looked back up at her, feeling like being emasculated in this instance wasn’t so bad if he could pout.

Stiles watched as her smile changed from genuine to calculating. Mel walked so close to him that he had to lean back a little in his chair, _like that was going to help him at all_ , only to blanch when she raised her hand to place it on his shoulder. He almost flailed back, but it was over too fast for him to do anything about it. 

“ _Oh my God_ , don’t you think this is a little risky, considering the last time that we tried this, _which was not my idea by the way_ , we were both ‘electrocuted’ and rendered unconscious!”

“Oh calm down you big baby, that was a onetime thing, probably.” Mel replied running her hand up and down Stiles’ arm as if she was searching for something. 

“ _Probably_?” Stiles jumped up and backed away.

“I don’t know what this is, and since Chris and Wyatt refuse to help, it looks like we’re on our own.” She paced back toward the window, stopped for a second, looked out at something, a sound like a chuckle came out of her mouth; and then she turned toward Stiles getting all up in his personal space again. “You are a strange little man. I really don’t see it, but I don’t think I’m supposed to.”

Stiles’ confusion could be felt through The Force. “What are you even-”

“Let’s go!”

Then Stiles was turned into sparkly blue lights and whisked away.

Yeah. _Sparkly_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final one is a little longer, and there are spells, so yeah for that!!

They reformed in an attic.

Stiles did not appreciate that fact that he was never involved in the decision making process when it came to this girl. He was kind of glad she was there though, because a few seconds later he almost collapsed on the attic floor. 

“For the love of God, how are you even alive?” Mel grabbed his upper arm and dragged him over to an ancient looking couch. Stiles was not comforted by the fact that a cloud of dust floated up from the couch when he was dropped onto it. 

“I was in my room. I’m not in my room. This isn’t my room. I was in my room.” Stiles murmured, dropping his head to the arm of the couch and repeating that mantra over and over again.

“Chris indicated that you were the smart one of the group. I hope for your sake that he wasn’t wrong.” She beamed at him but then seemed to catch herself. She shook her head and the smile slipped off of her face. The contrast of her saying terrifying things while having genuine smiles on her face was kind of freaking him out.

“Lydia.” Stiles mumbled.

“What?” Mel asked turning from where she was flipping through a giant book that sat on a pedestal in the middle of the room, to stare at Stiles. 

“Lydia is the smart one, I’m just… I’m just sarcastic and worried about a lot of stuff.” 

“Melly, are you up here?” Wyatt Halliwell came walking through a door on one side of the room. He walked in with a smile on his face, but taking one look at his sister at the _Book of Shadows_ , and the teenager that he met a few weeks ago when his sister had almost died for some reason, he lost his smile, his head fell back, and he yelled “Chris!” 

More blue lights formed and a figure emerged from them as they settled. “Wyatt, if you keep forgetting the Wi-fi password, just write it down.” 

Wyatt’s brows furrowed as he glanced over at his little brother. He pointed at their little sister and then moved his hand to point at Stiles, who still hadn’t thought to leave the couch.

“Oh shit.” 

“Christopher, language. What would mom say?” Mel joked sending both of her brothers a fond smile that had them both looking at her oddly; she stopped smiling and shook her head like she didn’t know what she had done. 

“Was that a smile?” Chris asked cautiously.

“Was that a joke?” Wyatt returned. 

“Can I go home?” Stiles asked turning from one Halliwell sibling to another. 

“No.” All three of them replied. 

Chris motioned with his head for Mel and Wyatt to follow him. Wyatt happily followed sending smiles and funny looking faces back at Stiles. Mel followed at a more sedate pace but smirking none the less. 

While they were gone Stiles decided that while he was kind of kidnapped, he wasn’t really being held against his will, and people who were not being held against their will had every right to snoop around. Stiles looked around the area and finally noticed that the room wasn’t a normal attic. Sure there was old looking furniture and boxes, but there also seemed to be a variety of jars, and Stiles did not want to know what was in them. Except he was a Stilinski, he ran with wolves, and he kind of did.

Stiles got up from the old couch and walked cautiously toward a bookshelf that was a mix between old decrepit looking books beside some stacked wooden chairs with a globe on top. Stiles pulled out one of the books and flipped through it, it was in English, but it seemed that it was fiction; it _had_ to be fiction. Because if Stiles had to live in a world where there were Titans who could turn you into a block of ice, he didn’t want to live on this planet any more. He carefully set the book back on the shelf and then walked over to a table that held a large, Stiles didn’t want to call it a cauldron but that was kind of exactly what it was, bowl that had some type of terrible smelling liquid in it. Beside the bowl there were some small stoppers of green, pink, and blue liquids that looked like that bug juice stuff Stiles used to drink before he got diagnoses with ADHD. 

Stiles picked the pink stopper up and shook it lightly; it was pink, you couldn’t really go wrong with pink, could you? The bottle in his hand started to heat up, so with a grace he usually lacked, Stiles placed the bottle back on the table and backed away.

Stiles was still alone in The Attic of Horror, as it had so aptly had been named. After satisfying his need to snoop around at everything else, Stiles finally had enough of the elephant in the room and shuffled over to the pedestal with the book that had a mysterious vibe about it. 

Mel had been touching it earlier, flipping through its pages even, so there was a good chance that it wouldn’t kill him. Taking a breath of liquid courage Stiles placed his hand on the book and nothing bad happened; small mercies, small miracles.

The first page was an illustration of some kind of monster, and he used that word lightly with Scott, Derek, and their pack around, but there was really only one word for the creature that was staring back at Stiles. There was an entry that was also staring back at him, so he read.

 _Gremlins_ , it started, _mischievous tiny green creatures who meddle with machinery. Although impish and seemingly harmless, their tinkering can cause potential danger._ Stiles looked back and forth from the picture to the entry and continued reading, _they are invisible to humans, but witches,_ oh yeah, they were witches, Stiles still hadn’t gotten used to that, _and other magical beings can see them. When sighted they flee at a great speed leaving behind only a fading green blur and the damage they have wrought._ The entire entry was hard to grasp, not because of the content, but believing was a little difficult for the son of the sheriff, but then again he was a part of a wolf pack, so there was that. 

Page after page were images and entries like that, they all looked like they were written by several different people, although they were broken up with what looked like, _yep those were spells_. 

Stiles went to close the book, finally feeling like he might have been intruding on something, even though those three _Witchlighting_ kidnappers had left him in the attic all by himself, well one _Witchlighting_ kidnapper, and two interested parties. As he closed the book Stiles did catch two things: 1) He missed the first page, and there, in big letters were the words _Book of Shadows_ , and 2) A _triquetra_ was on the front cover of the book. A _triquetra_. How Stiles knew what that was, he had no idea. It was kind of like how he knew that the tattoo on Derek’s gloriously muscular back was a _Triskelion_. It was embossed on the cover, the three points encircled within each other to make a trinity. Stiles turned his head left and right to study the symbol, but no matter what the angle he looked at it, it was still just a book. 

“What are you doing?” A voice demanded. Stiles jumped back on reflex while his head snapped up. Chris, Wyatt, and Mel were in the doorway staring at him with varying degrees of intensity. Stiles suddenly felt like he went from the clumsy, loveable human-werewolf-loving boy to the ‘kid who might be a supernatural creature who came to murder them’, even though he was the kidnapped victim in this scenario.

“It’s-” Stiles started, but then stopped himself when he realized where he was going with that sentence. It appeared that Chris did not share his sentiment. 

“It’s?” Chris questioned.

“Sorry, I was gonna say it’s not what it looks like, but it pretty much is.” Stiles admitted, “But let’s be honest, you all left me in here like I wasn’t going to look around. What on earth made you dumb enough to think I wasn’t going to look around?” 

Wyatt and Chris looked taken aback by Stiles’ admission. Mel was smirking while she pointed at Stiles, “See, I told you he was different.” 

“So are you.” Wyatt replied. 

“Okay, so we try it, if it works, great, if it doesn’t, we get help.” Chris dictated. 

“We what and what now?” Stiles gulped. Looking at it from a different angle, one would assume that Stiles would be a little cautious, a little frightened, but he didn’t feel like running away screaming, even though that’s kind of what he did on a daily basis. 

Chris walked over beside Stiles and started to flip through the _Book of Shadows_. “Well, the book accepts you, so you aren’t evil, which is probably a good thing.”

Stile nodded along with Wyatt and Melinda who were standing side by side in front of the pedestal. 

Chris continued, “And now since that’s out of the way, and there’s no need for unnecessary torturing,” He glanced up just in time to see Stiles slowly stop nodding only to look at Chris with wide doe eyes. “Kidding. Mostly.”

“Anyway, Melly thought that the personality switching could be a power trap.” Wyatt finished, sending his brother a bemused smirk.

“Call me that again, and Chris and I will be one brother down.” Mel chimed as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. She was looking down at her shoes, but if anyone looked close enough they would be able to see the hint of a smile on her face. 

“Yeah we can’t have her doing that.” Chris commented still flipping through the book. “After sixteen years of surly, sarcastic, pessimism there’s no way we can acclimate to a smiley Melinda.” He stopped on a page, read for a second, and lifted his head.

Wyatt placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and gave him a dopey smile; he reminded Stiles so much of Scott it hurt. “So here’s our plan Stiles,”

Stiles looked up with confusion, he had a sarcastic quip ready, but what came out was, “You remembered my name?” 

Wyatt, Chris and Melinda all gave him a weird look. “Of course we did.” Wyatt continued. He looked like he was about to ask a follow up question, but Chris cut in before he could. “So here’s our plan. We are going to have you call upon your powers, if they exist, and if they do, once they get here your body will hopefully balance itself out and both of you will go back to normal.” 

“Could we revisit the ‘trap spell’ thing. Because I don’t think I understand what that means.” Stiles requested. 

“It doesn’t matter, we’ll explain that later, Mel?” Chris changed spots with his little sister so Stiles and Mel were standing side by side. Chris and Wyatt were across from them, and for a second Stiles could see an odd look on the older Halliwell’s faces. 

“What?” Stiles asked.

“We’ll explain later.” Chris responded again.

“Alright, you ready?” Mel asked rhetorically, if only because she had already started to recite the spell. Stiles jumped in just in time to regret his every action from the past few days, especially this one. 

_“Powers of the Witches rise,_  
_Course unseen across the skies,_  
_Come to us who call you near,_  
_Come to us and settle here.”_

The two teenagers finished the spell and Stiles looked up expecting nothing to happen, because if there were any absolute truths in the world, if there was anything that Stiles John Stilinski knew better than anything else; it was that Stiles was the boy who ran with wolves, the human with too much bark but bite to back it up, the most loyal person he could be to make it up to no one for nothing, he was a hero, but don’t tell him that, because he always thought he was the pointing bystander in the wings. 

Stiles was a mere mortal trapped in a story with demi-gods and monsters that went ‘grr’ in the night.

The one thing that Stiles _knew_ was that he was human, but as Stiles finished saying the spell with Melinda Halliwell, as Chris and Wyatt Halliwell looked on ready for whatever would happen next, as Stiles continued to think that nothing would happen because Stiles was Stiles and he always turned out to be supernatural adjacent for some reason.

The whole attic began to shake as a bright, white light cascaded from the ceiling engulfing all four of them only to settle a few moments later leaving four very confused young people standing in its place.

“The hell-” Stiles started, flailing his arm at the ceiling for an explanation nonverbally.

What really shocked him was the way that the bookshelf to his left, the couch to his right, and some rather heavy looking items all shot out of their places and were thrown quite violently in different directions. Stiles froze, glanced at the three _Witchlighers_ with wide eyes who had not stopped staring at him since the white light, and then slowly lowered his hands to his sides. 

Wyatt was the first to break the silence with a wide smile and, “Yay for plan A.”

_-fini-_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank You for reading, stay tuned, comment and Kudos if you liked it!


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